Mr Weasley, a Meat Cleaver, and a Purple Tongue
by TheRowlingPierceWriter
Summary: What happened when Mr. Weasley was left alone with the Dursleys to shrink Dudley's swollen tongue? Set between chapters four and five of GoF. Enjoy!


**Mr. Weasley, a Meat Cleaver, and a Four-Foot-Long Purple Tongue**

**A/N: This fic takes place between chapters four and five of GoF, when the Weasleys pick Harry up from the Dursley's to take him to the Quidditch World Cup. At the end of chapter four, Dudley accidentally eats one of Fred and George's Ton-Tongue Toffees, rendering his tongue four feet long and purple. As the chapter ends, Mr. Weasley is alone in the Dursleys' living room with Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and a very distressed Dudley. Having sent his sons and Harry back to the Burrow, Arthur must now convince the Dursleys to let him save their son from choking on his own tongue. My boyfriend and I wrote this in the hopes that it will read seamlessly between the chapters, as well as convey a scene that we feel was unjustly cut out. It's also my first fic in years, so please be gentle. Enjoy! --Pierce**

**D/C: My boyfriend and I are not, in fact, J.K. Rowling, and we have no rights whatsoever to any of the Harry Potter books, movies, or merchandise. **

The noise was deafening. Over the tumult of Uncle Vernon's yells, Aunt Petunia's sobs, and Dudley's pitiful choking gasps, only one voice could clearly be heard.

"Good Lord," said Arthur Weasley, pausing in his attempts to shrink Dudley's swollen tongue and catching a glimpse of the Dursley's expensive sound system, "is that a _turnamatable?_"

Dudley's eyes were now bulging and red from tears. "You monster!" screamed Aunt Petunia. "What kind of man raises his children to attempt to kill such a sweet boy as my Duddykins?!"

Mr. Weasley could barely understand Petunia because she was now choking on her violent sobs. Little though he could make out of her furious diatribe, Mr. Weasley's chest puffed with indignation and he drew himself up to his fullest height. "The same kind of man," he replied, through slightly gritted teeth, "who tries to fix it!"

Uncle Vernon had begun wrestling with Dudley's immense tongue, which seemed to have taken on a life of its own. Uncle Vernon's beefy arms, however, could hold no purchase against the slimy protrusion. Through Vernon's grunts and muffled shouts of rage, the sound of Dudley's suffocation seemed to be getting worse.

"If you would just let me see--"

"You've done enough!" shouted Uncle Vernon. "Honestly, can't you people go anywhere without bringing disaster with you? My son is dying--"

"The living room is a MESS--"

"The fireplace is destroyed!" Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's voices were fighting for shots at Mr. Weasley. Dudley's face now looked almost skinny compared to his immense tongue, which was twice the width of Aunt Petunia's head.

"Please be reasonable," Mr. Weasley tried, "at least listen to what I'm saying. I. Can. Fix. It." he said clearly, as though speaking to a small, and rather slow, child.

With a roar like a bulldozer, Uncle Vernon released the tongue and launched himself at Mr. Weasley. As the latter raised his wand however, Uncle Vernon made a turn that looked too quick for his size, and clambered into the kitchen. For the first time, it was silent as Aunt Petunia stopped her hiccupping sobs to gaze wonderingly toward her husband. Dudley's face was now richly blue, and he seemed to have lost the ability even to wheeze. Mr. Weasley turned toward Uncle Vernon as he came stumbling out of the kitchen, but backed away almost immediately as he saw what Uncle Vernon was brandishing in his right hand. For a moment, the air became strangely breathless as Uncle Vernon bared down upon the wizard, a glistening meat cleaver held high above his head. With another fast pivot of his heel, however, Uncle Vernon turned away from Mr. Weasley and stared, panting, down at his own son.

Aunt Petunia screamed. "Move!" shouted Uncle Vernon. Amidst the chaos, it seemed Dudley's parents had not heard Mr. Weasley saying the purple monster trying to escape through Dudley's mouth was, in fact, his tongue. Uncle Vernon swung frantically.

"_Accio _meat cleaver!" yelled Arthur, and just in time, too. As the top of Uncle Vernon's fist met his son's tongue, a confused expression came across his face. He looked to Mr. Weasley, who was now looking increasingly fierce- sweating, cleaver in one hand, wand in the other, both outstretched.

All three Dursleys now scrambled over one another in a panic, each trying to be furthest away from attack. Even Dudley had regained movement in the face of such awesome danger- for Arthur Weasley, his red hair tousled, his eyes glinting with malice and crazed frustration, clutching a foot-long butcher knife in his shaking fist, was now more intimidating than he'd ever been in his life. When he spoke, Dudley emitted a small squeak and managed to hide most of his forehead behind his mother, the rest of his whale-like body still in plain sight.

"If you're not going to cooperate," he said very, very slowly, and with an infinitesimal jerk of his head toward Uncle Vernon, "I am going to have to make you."

Uncle Vernon spat something incomprehensible and made a quick movement for the nearest potential projectile. He picked up the heavy universal remote and hurled it at Mr. Weasley, who moved his head as it flew past. Dudley was clinging to his mother, who was attempting to push the four foot long tongue out of her face. Uncle Vernon began climbing over the table toward Mr. Weasley when one of its legs broke, and he fell face first on the carpet. He tried to stand but found himself unable to even blink. Arthur had frozen the Dursleys in place.

Dudley's arms were wrapped around his mother, who appeared to be absorbed by her son's tremendous girth. His tongue rested across her face. Mr. Weasley walked over to Dudley, who looked like he might have been frozen with fear rather than magic, pointed his wand at the enormous tongue, and said, "_Reducto!_" The tongue immediately shrank to normal size.

"It was that bloody simple!" he yelled, glaring at the collapsed heap that was Vernon Dursley on the floor. "I hope for your kinds' sake that you're not all this stubborn and close-minded," he continued. Arthur put the cleaver down on the armchair and started toward the fireplace. He took out the small bag of Floo Powder and threw a pinch into the fire. "And if I hear that Harry takes any of the blame for this, I'll force feed you all some of my son's candy!" Almost as an afterthought, he added, "And I won't be dodging china to stay and help out, either!"

He stepped into the fireplace, simultaneously unfreezing the furious Dursleys as he went. "Oh, and I'm taking this battery wand thing with me!" he finished, reaching down and scooping up the universal remote. "The Burrow," Arthur said calmly, and disappeared into the emerald flames.

************************************************************************

As countless hearths and homes rushed past his revolving frame, Mr. Weasley let his eyes flutter shut. _What a mess_, he thought, and laughed out loud when he realized what he'd done. In the midst of all the chaos, he had completely forgotten to fix the Dursley's filthy, exploded fireplace.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Also, we are aware that Arthur Disapparated back to the Burrow rather than using Floo Powder, but we felt that the fireplace would be a great way to tie the whole scene together, as well as help Arthur remember what he'd "forgotten" to do for the Dursleys. I'd also like to thank my boyfriend, again, for convincing me to write another fan fiction after all these years. **


End file.
